


Tattered Rose

by BlueNightmare



Category: Octopath Traveler
Genre: Come Eating, Dubious Consent, F/M, Humiliation, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 08:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNightmare/pseuds/BlueNightmare
Summary: Primrose will do anything to remain in Master Helgenish's good graces.For precisely as long as it is convenient, and no longer.





	Tattered Rose

**Author's Note:**

> The game isn't even out yet and won't be until next year, but the demo of (Project?) Octopath Traveler is impressive, so here's the smut nobody asked for. Already.
> 
> I provide valuable services.

The gravel-harsh voice of the foul old tavern master seemed to chafe the very air itself, scraping against Primrose's eardrums like sandpaper.

"You know where you belong, kitten."

His breeches already pooled around his hairy ankles, thighs spread wide in invitation, Master Helgenish lounged atop his gaudily ornate armchair in front of the dancing girl, one small, wrinkled part of his anatomy standing to attention before her as if it had a life of its own. A yellowed grin spread beneath his spindly mustache, the gargoyle of a man favored the beautiful girl at his feet with a wanting, lustful stare, watching her like a greedy buzzard waiting for its prey to die. "What are you waiting for, Primrose?" he goaded, spitting the words in her face. "Don't tell me you've forgotten why you are here."

Primrose flinched. No, as much as she wished otherwise, she hadn't forgotten what her master wanted from her. The memories of the many times she had been here in Helgenish's bedchambers pricked at her, haunting her, reminding her at every turn of just how she was to pay for her poor performance on stage this night.

Swallowing bile, choking down the dagger-sharp words that threatened to burst from her lips, she obediently sank to the carpet before him, her bare knees finding familiarity in the deceptively coarse weave. Her unwanted jewelry clinked as she set herself in her disgracefully customary place, her brunette tresses and skimpy silks settling around her slender form as she fought to hide her disgust behind a mask of dispassion. A smile was too much to ask, but Helgenish would not abide a frown.

Her dark eyes settled on the bastard's cock, jutting out in silent threat. It was a depressingly familiar sight to the dancing girl by now, a creased and knobbly protrusion amid a patch of scraggly grey hairs, never prettier no matter how many time she beheld it. Just seeing the horrid thing again brought echoes of its taste back to Primrose's mouth, and she knotted her hands in the delicate silk of her loincloth, preparing herself to endure it once again.

" _Well_?!" Helgenish's limited patience had well and truly expired. "What are you doing? Do you mean to _refuse_ me, Primrose?

"...No, Master." 

The words sounded like velvet and tasted like ash. If only she had the luxury of refusing him. Wrapping her mouth around the old man's cock disgusted her now as much as it did the first time he had dragged her in here to service him, frightened and unsure, but if Primrose had had any choice in the matter, she would never have come to his chambers to begin with.

If she hadn't needed Helgenish and his damned tavern so badly, she would have been rid of him a long time ago.

Exhaling through her nose, drawing out the breath as long as she dared to, the dancing girl leaned forward and opened her soft pink lips, taking the old man into her mouth with only the tiniest wince of displeasure. She'd learned the hard way not to display her disgust on her face, remembering all too clearly how hard the seemingly feeble old man could strike her when the mood took him, and she willed herself not to gag at his taste as she reluctantly slid herself further along his length, wrapping her lips around him as his girth flattened her tongue.

It was best to get it over with as swiftly as possible. The faster she brought this to a close, the faster he would lose interest in her for the night.

"Good kitten."

Despite his breathless words, Helgenish was the closest to purring of the two, his eyelids drooping as his obedient dancing girl enveloped him in her mouth. Sweaty hands slipped into Primrose's soft tresses, winding through brunette strands and grasping her scalp, forbidding her from withdrawing from her unwanted task.

Primrose flinched, but grudgingly accepted the new restriction, knotting white-knucked hands in her lap and redoubling her efforts at tending him, sliding her captive tongue against his shaft and sucking at him as eagerly as she could feign. Helgenish wasn't the largest of men, nor was he typically able to endure for long, and experience with this task had taught her how to hurry it towards its inevitable conclusion. He liked it when she took all of him, and so she worked her lips further down his cock towards his balls, wincing as coarse, wiry grey hairs scratched against her cheeks, his sweaty scent filling her nostrils, haunting every breath.

This was the most degrading thing he had her do. It was worse than the sex he forced from her, worse than the insults, the beatings, worse than being made to flaunt her body on stage for his patrons every night, dancing to a whore's rhythm. He called it _kindness_ , housing and feeding Primrose and the rest of his dancing troupe in exchange for her services, but the abuse and the humiliation seldom stopped, and she was obliged to feign gratitude. She knew what became of the girls who defied Helgenish, sold off or murdered in the night, their possessions shared amongst the others more as an example than a reward, and she had no plans to join them. Even if that meant throwing aside what remained of her pride and pleasuring the sadistic pig with her mouth.

Her noble father would be ashamed of her, she knew, but she had long since resigned herself to that. She was disgraced, stained, but she no longer cared. Not as long as she could find her father's killers, and Helgenish, loathsome as he was, was the key to her mission.

She would play her part.

His hands still kept her from withdrawing herself from his cock, but Helgenish was all too happy to let Primrose move in on him, sighing and throwing his head back into the plush back of his chair as the wet warmth of her mouth enclosed his withered length to the hilt. His moist, sticky flesh made her long to scrub her tongue clean, but there would be no reprieve from the revolting feel and flavor of him until she finished her task, and she knew from experience that the situation was going to get worse before it improved.

"This is more like it." Her master's ragged voice grew taut, and Primrose felt him tighten in her mouth, stiff and oily against her tongue. "If you had showed this kind of enthusiasm on stage, maybe you wouldn't be here now. But I am... glad you are..."

His fingertips dug into Primrose's scalp, his breaths short and sharp. Her eyes slipping closed, the dancing girl braced herself to receive the hot jets of fluid she knew were coming, preparing to angle her head to permit the master's cum the fastest possible passage to her throat. If she tilted her head just so, perhaps this time it would avoid her tongue entirely...

"Hold it in your mouth," Helgenish croaked, as if he had read her hopeful thoughts and decided to spit on them. His voice quaked as if it might crumble to dust, as if _he_ might. "Don't spit... don't swallow... just... _nnnrgh...!_ "

His hands spasmed against her head, and he drove himself into the dancing girl's mouth as he clawed his way to orgasm, making her gag against her will. Then, just as abruptly, he drew himself out of her throat again as gouts of warm, thick cum surged from his cock, oozing onto the tip of Primrose's tongue. It seeped beneath, pooling in the floor of her mouth as she reluctantly held still, desperately trying to hold herself back from spitting the globs of semen onto the floor or swallowing just to be rid of it. She couldn't help but twist her face in disgust at the foul, salty taste of it, but fortunately for her Helgenish wasn't looking at her, his eyes shut tight as he rode his climax out. Finally, he withdrew, the last feeble strings of the hot, sticky substance leaking from Helgenish's tip, clinging to Primrose's soft lips and dangling down her quivering chin, swaying with her trembles.

Sickened, filthied, Primrose forced herself to hold her mouth open, the pearl-white fluid sitting in her mouth and streaking her tongue. What cruel game was this? He had never kept her here beyond his orgasm before. Her golden bangles clinked as she wound her fingers into her skimpy loincloth, wondering how long he meant for her to remain like this...

Huffing a shuddering breath from his lungs, Helgenish opened a single eye, watching her closely as he recovered from his exertion. He made no move to put away his saliva-slick manhood, a hand idly stroking it as he beheld his degraded possession.

"Take your clothes off," he growled at last. "Leave the jewels. And don't cast away my _gift_."

Primrose's stomach twisted, but she didn't refuse. Feeling numb, used, she lifted her already revealing dancer's bodice up over her chest, letting her ample breasts fall free, pursing her lips around her mouthful of semen and lifting the garment up over her head. Her chocolate ponytail, caught up in the movement of silken cloth, fell loose to drape itself down her bare back once more as the dancer completed the motion, head held high and confident as she dropped her hands to her loincloth.

Bangles jingled and clattered as she wrested the skimpy pink cloth and its gleaming accoutrements down her legs to her knees, a sharp glare from her reclining master telling her that, yes, the lacy black panties he had bought for her were to be shed as well. Somehow managing not to let her frustration show, she adjusted her position and slid both loincloth and undergarments down her calves and over her ankles, dismissing them to the carpet with her top, belatedly unstrapping her sandals and discarding those as well.

Naked but for the bangles on her wrists and the gaudy clutter of gold and gems around her neck and in her hair, she donned the appropriate look of timidity and stared back at her master once again, letting her sticky lips fall open to prove that no, she hadn't swallowed his cooling mess. She never _liked_ letting him see her naked, of course, but if this was what it took to keep the balance between them, she would do it.

It was all for her vengeance. All of it. One day she would have her revenge, on her father's killers and on Helgenish both, but tonight...

She would be the whore he insisted she was.

"I am not _entirely_ without pity, kitten." Leaning forward, both wicked eyes fixed on her now, the old man extended a bony finger to Primrose's opened lips, sliding it inside to dip into the mixture of saliva and cum she kept there. She flinched, but stifled the instinct to jerk away or to swallow, letting him probe below her tongue as he pleased. It wasn't the worst part of him she'd had in her mouth tonight, after all. "I may have taken my pleasure from you tonight," he murmured, withdrawing his fingertip glistening wet, "but I'd not have you go to bed unsated this time, my dear Primrose. My precious favorite."

He smeared his finger beneath his dancer's nostrils, painting her upper lip with semen and spit, and there was no hiding the revulsion in her dark eyes as she was made to smell as well as taste.

"Touch yourself," he whispered, lounging back in his chair and settling his eyes on the bare-skinned girl. "I'm sure a whore like you requires little instruction. Hold onto that mouthful and give yourself pleasure. Consider it a gift from your master."

This was different. This was something he had never asked of her before, but Primrose knew she had little choice in the matter. It bothered her, of course, but she had already exploited her body so much for this disgusting little man that baulking at this seemed ludicrous.

Her fingers slipped between her legs, sought out her pussy, and danced.

The shame wouldn't break her, she told herself, cooling cum dripping onto her bare breasts as she nimbly sought out her clit and feathered her fingers against her folds. She was strong, stronger than the other girls held in the master's sway, strong enough to twist and cavort on stage for a hooting, hungry audience in little more than lingerie every night, to suck the bastard's cock for him and come away without hating herself. This was nothing.

The hardest part was feeling anything akin to pleasure with Helgenish's limp manhood hanging in front of her eyes and his seed coating her tongue and her face. She felt nothing for him beyond scorn and seething hate, but the equation had changed little from earlier - she still simply needed to wring an orgasm out of someone against her will. It was merely a different person now.

She wished it was that easy, but if Helgenish could tell that Primrose was taking her time in becoming aroused, he didn't seem to care. He supervised her every move, every twitch, watching her work herself over for him, strings of sludgy white dripping from her lips, staining her face. He had told her once, in the haze that followed a messy orgasm, that there was nothing he enjoyed so much as defiling the beautiful and innocent, bringing them to the level of filth. It was a part of why he had taken her in, why he made her dress in scraps and flaunt herself for a tavern of lusting men, why he hurt her, why he so dearly loved to use her.

By the time her body began to properly react to her fondling, warming up from the persistent if unenthusiastic stimulation, the load of tepid semen she held in her mouth was becoming harder and harder to hold there, but Primrose was nothing if not determined. Stubbornly keeping her head level as the rest of her body began to squirm and twitch, she focused her attention on the heat in her pussy rather than the taste and texture in her mouth, slipping a fingertip inside of herself, then two, expertly stretching herself out around them and driving herself toward her unwanted peak. She could do this. She _would_ do this, but then it would be over and she could push the night's memories to the back of her head with all of the others-

Bony fingers seized her nipples and squeezed, sending sharp stabs of pain through the vulnerable nubs, startling her out of her rhythm.

"Keep going," Helgenish urged her, rolling her nipples between his fingertips, teasing them to hardness with gentle tugs and rough little twists. His hot, sour breath clouded in Primrose's face as he leaned forward and stared into her eyes, enjoying the helpless frustration he found there. "Next time you decide you are _too good_ for my stage, I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember what you _really_ are, under that pretty face and those airs you put on."

His cruel fingers squeezed, and Primrose's breath hitched, drops of cum leaking down her tongue towards the back of her throat as she jerked in dismay. Not all of it, not even half, but enough to leave her with a disgustingly slimy feeling there, tracing its way down into her stomach. Regaining control of herself, she tilted her head down to collect the remainder of the pearly fluid in the front of her mouth, the corners of her lips flicking down in revulsion, before letting her slicked fingers resume their busy work.

Her master refused to leave her nipples alone, rubbing and rolling them, tweaking and pinching and twisting, but as much as it embarrassed her, as much as it sometimes hurt, his rough teasing did have the desired effect. Her body enjoyed being touched, loved the little thrill each squeeze and pluck sent through her chest, the buds standing tall and stiff against her breasts as her arousal swelled from the relentless contact.

She was used to having her body driven to pleasure against her will, and it had long since ceased to bother her, the disjunction between her flesh and her mind only reinforcing to her that this meant _nothing_. It was simply a primal reaction, nothing more meaningful than a passing convulsion, and it barely shamed her at all to admit that it still felt _good_ , in spite of the circumstances that had led to it. Why _shouldn't_ she enjoy the sensation, if she were going to be put through it anyway?

Her eyes slid closed, her body tensed, her pussy gripped her steadily pumping fingers, and Helgenish read the signs with a smile, giving both nipples a savage little twist. "Swallow it," he demanded as Primrose's peak threatened to overwhelm her, rising to a searing apex, and she did as he bade her without hesitation, tilting her head back and gulping down the revolting pool of cum she held in her mouth, the thick fluid drizzling over her tongue and down her throat as her pussy convulsed around her fingers...

Pleasure blossomed through her mind along with her body, blotting out the humiliating reality of her situation for a few precious moments as her own fluids drenched her fingers and dripped to the carpet. Helgenish was forgotten, if only for an instant, the tension in her coming undone as she released a moaning sigh into the musky air, keeping her fingers moving until she had wrung every last twitch from herself.

When it was done, the ecstasy of orgasm ebbing away, she wondered if she had smiled.

Wishing she could rid her tongue of the last stubbornly clinging dregs of cum without seeming disrespectful, she wiped her wet chin clean and climbed to her feet on shaking legs, halting only to scoop up her discarded clothing. "Will that be all, Master...?" she murmured, amazed at her own capacity to keep her voice low and sultry, her cheeks flushed red from exertion and embarrassment. Pressing together thighs slick with her own juices, she clutched her garments in front of her breasts, feigning modesty in the way she knew that he liked, brunette bangs flitting over her eyes.

"Yes, that will do for tonight." Pleased with her compliance, Helgenish made no move to lift his breeches, still idly stroking himself with a satisfied smile sliding across his toad-like lips. "You have done well, Primrose. I knew you would make a fine whore the moment I lifted you out of the gutter."

"For which I am forever grateful, Master." She knew it was expected of her, so she spoke the words she had learned by heart with just enough care to sound convincing. Professing gratitude for what this disgusting old man had done to her still made her feel ill on some level, but the lies came easier and easier with the years. The sweet noble girl she had once been was long gone, and the woman who stood in her place would say and do anything she had to if it took her a step closer to avenging her father's murder.

One day, she would dance for Helgenish no more. One day she would have what she wanted from his wanton establishment and move on, her sandals still wet with the bastard's blood.

For now, Primrose would dirty herself as much as she needed to if it kept her in his good graces. Obedience, dancing, beatings, sex, she could endure it all. She may have been a vision of delicate, graceful beauty, an object of lust for every man who passed through the forsaken desert town, but she was the strongest person in the Sunlands. Even naked and degraded and soaked in cooling juices, her honor and dignity in tatters, her will would not be broken.

She felt utterly, irredeemably filthy, but she could cope with that.


End file.
